


Can't Escape the Past

by Mistress_of_Squirrels



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Blood and Gore, Body Horror, Canon-Typical Violence, Depression, Gen, Murder, Original Character Death(s), Original Character(s), Post-Apocalypse, Suicide, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-16
Updated: 2016-12-16
Packaged: 2018-09-09 00:18:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8868640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mistress_of_Squirrels/pseuds/Mistress_of_Squirrels
Summary: Daisy gets an unpleasant reminder that no matter how far she puts the past behind her, it never really goes away.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [likegoodangels](https://archiveofourown.org/users/likegoodangels/gifts).



> December prompt for likegoodangels picture prompt contest. 
> 
> Takes place right after the Great War in Fallout. Please mind the tags. This isn't a happy story, and could be quite upsetting for some.

It was early when Daisy saw him come stumbling through the gates, the sun a bright sliver just beginning to creep over the horizon. She hadn’t even opened shop yet, and with a sigh, the ghoul knew she wasn’t going to anytime soon. Something needed to be said.

 

Much as she might disapprove, Daisy couldn’t hold the chems against him. Everyone had their vice. Kept people sane around here, and he’d never made any secret of his. It really wasn’t any business of hers, but things were different now that he’d went and appointed himself mayor. The boy wasn’t just some drifter anymore; couldn’t go running off every time he felt like getting high. 

 

_ No, not a boy _ , Daisy reminded herself as she came out from around the counter to meet him. Not for a long time now, even if she’d still had more than a decade on him when she first realized she didn’t really need to keep track of birthdays anymore.

 

He grinned when he noticed her heading his way, swaying on his feet as he tried to take a step towards her. Daisy rushed to steady him, looping one of his arms around her shoulders. His taller form sagged against her, a drunken giggle escaping his lips even as he winced at the contact. “Worth it,” he sang, his voice low and hoarse.

 

High as a kite, she had no doubt. Nothing new there, but she’d never seen him quite like this. Her head tilted so she could see him properly, Daisy shot the mayor a reproving look, ready to launch into a lecture about his new responsibilities to the town. The words died in her throat when a familiar tingle washed over what was left of her skin. 

 

Radiation. So much she could practically taste it, sharp as ozone at the back of her tongue. She didn’t need a Geiger counter to know that it was coming from the man leaning against her, rolling off him in waves so thick she wondered how he’d made it back to town at all. That many rads should have killed him. 

 

A closer look at his face gave her her answer. He was pale and sweating, the skin beneath his eyes smudged purple from burst capillaries. Traces of dried blood were crusted around his nose and the corners of his mouth, and stained his shirt in stiff, dark patches. At first glance, his eyes, red-rimmed and bloodshot, looked as they always did after a night of drinking and chems, but that didn’t explain the deep blue-gray tinge spreading across the sclera like drops of ink in a glass of water. She’d seen it happen enough over the years to know that his eyes would only darken over time until they were the same pitch black as her own. 

 

Daisy reached up with her free hand and touched his stubbled cheek, nearly flinching at how hot he felt, and gently nudged his face down to look at her. His feverish gaze met hers and his grin turned acerbic, bitterness and something like triumph shining in the quick flash of his teeth. It struck her then, that she could skip the uncomfortable explanation that usually followed in these instances. Most folks were upset when they realized they were about to lose all that pretty, smooth skin. A few had even claimed they’d rather die, but there was none of that with him. He knew exactly what was happening and accepted it. 

 

She should have been relieved. No tears or angry denial, no trying to convince him life was still worth living. She  _ would  _ have been relieved if it weren’t for the awful suspicion that the time to talk him off a ledge had come and gone. He’d already jumped. 

 

“Oh, Johnny...What have you done to yourself?”

 

Her fears were confirmed when he made no effort to deny her gentle accusation. His only response was a quiet, rueful laugh and a pointed, “Hancock.”

 

Daisy paused in her progress toward the Old State House long enough to send him a questioning look.

 

“It’s Hancock,” he repeated, staring back with over-bright eyes. “Ain’t John anymore.” He turned his face away and muttered what sounded like, “Made sure of that,” but his voice was so low she couldn’t be sure. 

 

Glancing at the red frock coat and tricorn he’d taken to wearing shortly before Vic’s trip over the balcony, Daisy only nodded. She’d liked John McDonough just fine, had known him since he was a troubled young man that liked to sneak away from home, but he wasn’t a teen that needed looking after anymore and his new identity had nothing to do with  _ her  _ feelings. 

 

“Alright, then. Hancock it is,” Daisy agreed, managing a small smile as she tried to ignore the sudden stinging in her eyes. “Let’s get you home.”

 

He gave her a half-hearted leer, mumbling something about taking her back to his place that might have had her blushing if she weren’t old enough to be his ancestor and quite possibly the only thing preventing him from sprawling face first in the gutter.

 

Inside, they were met by his bodyguard, Fahrenheit. The girl said nothing as she moved to help Daisy get Hancock up the stairs, but the tight frown that tugged at her lips spoke her concern for her. By the time they managed to get him up the stairs and settled, he wasn’t doing much in the way of talking, either. He was barely clinging to consciousness. 

 

Daisy passed her hand over his brow and frowned at the heat radiating beneath her palm. If left unchecked, a fever that high would be deadly to most people, but Hancock was beyond that. It wouldn’t kill him, not now, but everything that made him the man he was would be gone, all the same. 

 

“What happened?”

 

Pursing her lips, Daisy glanced over and met worried blue eyes. Fahrenheit was young, but she wasn’t stupid. She knew Hancock as well as Daisy did, if not better, and Daisy wouldn’t insult her by trying to pass this off as just another binge, but her suspicions were just that. Even if she’d known the full story, it wasn’t hers to tell. 

 

“Might want to keep your distance, honey. He’s puttin’ off enough rads to power a plant. If you want to know more than that, you’ll have to ask him yourself.” 

 

“Will he live?”

 

Daisy shrugged. “Probably.” She eyed the girl a moment, and then said bluntly, “He’ll be a ghoul. Change has already started.” If Fahrenheit had any issues with that, best she learn now so she could toddle on out and find a new body to guard. After what he’d done for all of them, John--  _ Hancock _ deserved better than fair-weather friends.

 

Fahrenheit’s eyes widened before her face resumed its neutral expression. The girl nodded as she seemed to come to a decision and without hesitation asked, “What can I do?”

 

“Get some water. We’ve got to get this fever down-” Daisy was interrupted by a groan from Hancock and barely had time to get him turned so that he was vomiting on the floor instead of all over himself and the couch. “And see if you can find a bucket,” she sighed. “I expect there’ll be a lot of that before we’re through.”

 

When Fahrenheit returned, Daisy cleared the coffee table of the chems and trash that littered its surface and took a seat. She dipped a rag into a bowl of cold water and set about bathing Hancock’s face, arms, and chest while Fahrenheit started cleaning the mess on the floor. At Daisy’s look of alarm, the girl pulled a bottle of Rad-X from her pocket and gave it a shake, the pills rattling inside. “Already thought of that.”

 

“Smart girl.” Daisy nodded her approval and then went back to tending the man shivering on the ratty couch. 

 

It was monotonous work, the kind of task that didn’t require concentration, and with nothing to keep her mind grounded, Daisy’s thoughts drifted to a time she’d done her best to forget. It should have been easy. When Memory Lane spanned more than two centuries, it only made sense for some things to get lost along the way. 

 

Some things were lost; gone forever. She had only the dimmest recollection of what her Harold had looked like. Oh, she knew his eyes had been green, but the photos never got it quite right. The exact shade had started to fade long before the color of her own eyes. The same wasn’t true for her worst memories. Those tended to linger. She remembered with vivid detail what the end of the world looked like, what it sounded and smelled like. Time hadn’t touched those memories, but maybe that was because they’d been seared into her brain, captured like a photograph in a blinding flash of light and fire. 

 

The first time she’d seen a ghoul had been in the subway tunnels that ran beneath the city, just days after the bombs fell. They didn’t have a name for them back then, and the closest concept came straight from horror movies and old ghost stories.

 

He -  _ she? _ \- looked like something that had crawled up from the depths of hell, all melted flesh and charred bone. No time for questions, not when the most important one had already been answered: nothing human walked around with its innards on the outside. A well-placed bullet had taken care of the rest.   

 

Daisy flinched. Whether it was from the sharp crack of an assault rifle echoing in her mind, vivid as the day it’d been fired, or the guilt that welled at the memory she couldn’t say. Probably some kind of karmic retribution - and a hefty dose of irony - that she was sitting here now, the only one that still remembered what happened to the poor bastard. She might not have pulled the trigger, but she sure as hell hadn’t argued against it. 

 

The worst part was that even armed with hindsight, she didn’t know if she’d have made a different call. Under the right circumstances, murder and mercy looked a lot alike. 

  
  


_ October 2077 _

 

They heard it coming before they saw it; the labored wheeze and rattle of air forced through damaged lungs, the shuffle-scrape of an uneven gait, amplified by concrete walls. When it finally lurched into view, there were no shocked gasps or fearful cries. There was only horrified disbelief as each of them silently questioned what they were seeing. 

 

For once, Daisy was relieved the light was so bad. There’d be plenty of nightmares as it was. 

 

It was human enough in shape, with most of the proper limbs, but that was where the similarities ended. Candle wax dripped over a doll, exposed muscle and tendon gleaming wetly beneath. A blackened length of bone was where the right arm should be, jutting out from the shoulder and ending at the elbow. Instead of a face, there was only a burned mess so swollen it was impossible to determine individual features. 

 

It let out a sound that was too garbled to be identified as speech, and as though that was the signal he was waiting for, James sighted down the barrel of his rifle and fired. 

“Jesus, what the hell  _ was  _ that?!” Eric barked, stepping around James and looking for all the world like he hadn’t just been hiding behind the other man. 

 

They  _ all  _ were - he was the one with the gun, after all, but that wasn’t something Eric was likely to ever admit.

 

“Doesn’t matter,” James said. He poked the mangled body with the tip of his rifle and leaned in for a closer look, the light catching on the metal ID tags that dangled from a chain around his neck. He shuddered and took a quick step back, bringing his rifle up to rest against his shoulder as he glanced around at the rest of them. “It’s dead now. We keep moving.”

 

The rest of the group exchanged worried looks. They’d been going since the bombs dropped, only stopping long enough to sleep and eat. It was hard to keep track of the days down in the darkened tunnels, but by Daisy’s best guess, it had been about five. Five days of crawling through the subway system with only the dim emergency lighting to see by. Five days of scavenging what food and water they could from vending machines. If they were lucky, they slept in one of the trains, or in shifts on the hard benches in the stations. If they weren’t, it was a miserable night propped against the tunnel walls. 

 

They kept an eye out for signs of other survivors, but that creature was the only thing they’d had contact with that even remotely resembled life. For all they knew, that might be all that was left. 

 

No, that was fear talking. The six of them had survived; there had to be others. 

 

Eric’s voice brought her out of her dark thoughts, and Daisy focused her attention on what he was saying, grateful for the distraction. 

 

“...I don’t know, man. Maybe we should just stay put for a bit. Randy’s not looking so good.”

 

He nodded toward a tall youth that was leaning heavily against the wall. Randy’s eyes went wide as he noticed he was now the subject of everyone’s attention and he quickly shook his head. “Me? N-no, I’m fine.” 

 

James arched a brow at Eric and opened his mouth to argue, but before he could get a word out, Joel, Randy’s father cut in.

 

“He just needs rest.” His gave James a pointed look over his glasses and added, “We  _ all  _ do. We haven’t had a chance to catch our breath since all of this happened.”

 

“You wanna see if that thing had friends hanging around?” James demanded, jabbing a thick finger in the direction of the corpse. “Even if that was the only one, we’ve been over this: we need food and water. You wanna sit around and wait for room service, be my guest. The rest of you, let’s go.” 

 

Without so much as a backward glance, James set off down the tunnel, the others staring after him. Daisy had no doubt he’d leave them all behind if they chose not to follow. 

 

“We’d better go,” Joan said softly, frowning at James’ back. She tied a sweater that proudly proclaimed ‘Massachusetts Bay university’ around her waist and offered Randy a shy smile as she took his arm. “Mind if I walk with you? My eyes aren’t so good down here.”

 

Close enough to be of assistance, because despite his protests, the kid looked like one good breeze would knock him over, but offered in such a way it soothed any wounds to his youthful pride.

 

_ Clever girl. _

 

Joel scratched his balding head in bemusement as he followed after them, unwilling to let his son get too far ahead of him.

 

“Guess that’s an order,” Eric muttered, falling into step beside Daisy. “Better hop to it.” 

 

Daisy held her tongue. It wasn’t her place to take sides and the last she wanted to do was jump in the middle of a pissing match. They were all exhausted, tempers running high, but James had a point. Finding enough water for all of them was a serious concern. Eric might have been acting solely in Randy’s interest, but he had a habit of using any excuse to argue, especially with James. No one had complained when the former soldier stepped into the role of leader. He had the skills to survive, something the rest of them, civilians all, lacked. They’d have never made it this far without him, and everyone, including James, knew it. It didn’t stop Eric from questioning his every decision, or James taking the bait, however. This had become a common occurrence. 

 

It was hard to say how long they walked the tunnels. A couple times they ran into a collapsed section or a passage that was too steeped in radiation to safely navigate and had to find another way through. After what must have been three or four hours, James called a stop at one of the underground stations. He and Eric searched the office and ticket booth for anything useful while Joan and Daisy picked through an Eat-o-Tronic. Much of the food had spoiled, but they found a few boxes of Insta-Mash and a package of potato crisps. Hardly a meal, but enough to stave off the worst hunger pangs. 

 

Daisy kept a close eye on Randy as she ate. The kid hadn’t touched his food, no matter how much Joel fussed that he needed to keep his strength up. Joan looked a little guilty when he finally offered his share to her. She refused it at first, only relenting when he insisted. Later on that night, Randy started vomiting. She was too ashamed to ever say it aloud, but she was glad the kid had the sense to give away his dinner. They couldn’t afford to waste food. 

 

Once Randy had fallen into a fitful sleep, Joel dozing at his side, James motioned the rest of them behind the ticket counter. They were close enough to keep an eye on things, Daisy noted, but far that they wouldn’t be overheard as long as they kept their voices down. 

 

“Look,” James began, barely above a whisper. ‘I know no one wants to hear it, but the kid’s becoming a liability. We need to start thinking about the good of the group, here, instead of just one person.”

 

“What are you saying?” Joan asked, her forehead creased in genuine confusion. 

 

“He’s saying we ditch him, “ Eric said flatly. He wrinkled his long nose as though he smelled something foul, jaw clenching as he regarded the soldier. “Isn’t that right, Jimmy? And what happens the next time one of us sneezes? You gonna decide what’s best for the group then, too?”

 

“This isn’t a cold or a cough,” James hissed back. “He’s not going to get better.”

 

“You can’t know that!”

 

“Keep it down, will you?”

 

“Or what?”

 

Daisy’s heart started to hammer in her chest as Eric took a step forward. She should stop this before it came to blows, but she couldn’t get out more than an undignified squeak when she opened her mouth. She’d never been good in these kinds of situations. 

 

“SHhhh!” Joan swallowed hard, fidgeting with a lock of long blond hair when both men turned to look at her, but she didn’t back down. “You’re both being too loud,” she chided, waving a hand in the direction Randy and his father slept. “Seems like the whole point of bringing us over here was to avoid that.”

 

Before anyone could comment further she turned to James and asked,  "How do you know he won’t get better? I mean, we’re all tired, and with the stuff we’ve been eating...well, I can’t say my stomach feels great, either.”

 

Taking a deep breath, Daisy nodded. “Same here. We’ve been living off half-spoiled food and bad water for almost a week. Digestive complaints are to be expected.”

 

If a twenty-something slip of a girl could speak out against this, so could she. Besides, Eric was right. If James was willing to just abandon a kid barely out of his teens, anyone of them could be next. 

 

“This isn’t just an upset stomach.” James crossed his arms against his broad chest and leaned back against the counter. “I got a good look at him earlier. The kid’s got all the signs of radiation poisoning.”

 

“But there’s drugs for that,” Daisy tried to reason. She bit her lip and looked away when James shot her a scathing look. 

 

“You see any of that around here? Or maybe we’ll just take a quick drive to the pharmacy,” he sneered. James hooked a thumb behind him where his Geiger counter sat, emitting a series of slow, steady clicks. “He’s only soaking up more rads. Maybe he’s got a couple weeks, maybe just a few days, but either way, the kid’s doomed. There’s nothing we can do but make sure the rest of us get out of this alive.”

 

Eric’s short crop of dark curls bounced as he shook his head. “No. We’re not leaving anyone down here to die. You don’t get to make that call.”

 

“We should stick together,” Joan added, and Daisy nodded her agreement. 

 

“Fine, fine.” James held up his hands in surrender, lips curled in a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Democracy and all that, right? The people have spoken.” His face hardened as he turned to Eric and jabbed a finger at his chest. “Just make sure he keeps up. I’d hate to see that soft little heart of yours get you into trouble.”

 

“Yeah, I’ll bet,” Eric muttered beneath his breath as James stalked past, shoving the door open with such force it slammed into the wall. 

 

Joan wrung the fabric of her skirt in her hands, eyes darting between Daisy and Eric. “We should be careful. I don’t think he liked that.”

 

“He’ll get over it.”

 

“No,” Daisy said quietly, watching as James kicked an empty Nuka Cola bottle. He snatched up his rifle and went to stand watch at the mouth of the tunnel. He did the same thing every time they camped, but she’d never seen him quite so angry. “No, I don’t think he will.”

 

They needed James, there was no denying that, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that he was just as dangerous as anything they were likely to run into. And this time, it wasn’t just Eric that had challenged him. 

 

 

* * *

  
  


 

In a complete turnabout, James suggested they stay another day - or what passed for one now - so that Randy could rest up. It meant dipping into their meager supply of emergency rations, but no one complained. They could all use a break, even if one look at Randy had Daisy doubting it would do the boy any good.  He was so pale, in the dim light, his eyes looked like dark holes in his face. Recovery was going to take more than a single night. 

 

_ If he recovers at all.  _

 

Was James right after all? If he thought he was, why the change of heart?

 

She wasn’t about to ask. All he’d done was stand around and brood, glaring at Eric whenever the other man wasn’t looking. Eric thought he’d won some kind of victory, but Daisy suspected he’d only made an enemy. It might have been prudent to warn him, but she kept her thoughts to herself. There was enough tension as it was, and she didn’t trust Eric to keep a cool head. 

 

To everyone’s amazement, by the time James started making noise about moving on, Randy had improved. He still looked like hell, but he’d stopped throwing up and even ate a little. Still a long way to go, but such drastic progress gave Daisy hope. Maybe James was mistaken. 

 

Eric certainly thought so, and he wasn’t shy about rubbing it in. He didn’t say or do anything that would alert Randy or Joel to the conversation that had taken place behind their backs, but the storm brewing on James’ face said he had no trouble interpreting the smirks and knowing looks. 

 

The friction only increased over the next few days when they ran low on water and fresh arguments broke out over rationing. Daisy, Joan, Joel, and Randy remained silent and uneasy as James and Eric yelled over how their supply should be distributed. They never mentioned him by name, but it was clear the main point of contention was still Randy. 

 

Daisy gave the boy’s hand a sympathetic squeeze and whispered an apology to Joel, even though she was pretty sure neither understood the root of the disagreement. Joel seemed far too calm to have realized that they were arguing over whether his son was worth something as essential as water. 

 

When Randy wasn’t paying attention, Daisy took a long look at the boy. Between Eric and Joel, he’d kept up with the rest of them, but he tired easily, and he was still far too pale, his face and arms mottled with strange bruises. His hair had thinned, but that wasn’t an ailment unique to him. She was finding more of her own hair on her clothes than she was used to. They all were. 

 

She sighed as Randy grimaced and wrapped an arm around his abdomen. His stomach was still bothering him.

 

_ If what James said was true… _

 

Daisy refused to finish that thought. Even if it was, letting him die of thirst wasn’t the answer. If it all became a game of numbers, what was the point? The odds were looking pretty bleak for all of them. 

 

A tug at her sleeve drew her from her grim musing, and Daisy looked over to find Joan staring intently at the wall. Moisture seeped in from small fissures in the ceiling and wall, collecting in dark rivulets that ran down the concrete. 

 

“Look,” Joan whispered, attempting to wet her lips with a sticky tongue. “Water.”

 

Daisy shook her head mutely, her eyes never leaving the fluid trickling down the walls. A tingle of foreboding ran along her spine. It didn’t look like any water she’d ever seen. It was too dark, too thick to be anywhere near potable, but that didn’t stop Joan from cupping her hand against the wall in an effort to collect some as it ran down. 

 

“No!” Daisy grabbed the girl’s arm, a shower of oily droplets spattering the ground. She’d heard stories of people drinking sea water out of desperation and wondered if that wasn’t actually a preferable alternative. It would still kill them, but at least it  _ looked  _ like water. 

 

Joan jumped, startled by Daisy’s vehement reaction. Her eyes narrowed in offense, her expression flickered to disgust as she caught sight of her hand. A black stain marked her palm and fingers, winding in narrow trails to the back of her hand and up her wrist. She tried to wipe it off but only succeeded in smearing her hand further and staining her skirt. 

 

Upon hearing the commotion, James came over to investigate. 

 

Joan held up her discolored hand, eyes large and frightened as she said, “It’s coming from the walls.”

 

James took her by the forearm, careful to avoid contact with the strange substance as he clicked on his flashlight for a better look. When he directed the beam at the walls, they looked like they were running with ink. 

 

“It must be raining,” James murmured absently, as though speaking to himself. He let out a sharp whistle to get everyone’s attention. “Listen up! We need to go, get somewhere dry. Stay away from the walls,” he cautioned, aiming the flashlight to show what he was warning them about. “Don’t get that shit on you.”

 

The walls bled black for the next several hours. James led them single file down the center of the tunnel. They were able to avoid stay out of the worst of it, but after a while, shallow puddles of the black fluid collected on the ground and fell in fat drops from the ceiling. It was impossible to avoid entirely. 

 

At one point, Randy tripped over a chunk of rubble. Both Joel and Eric were caught off guard, too busy trying to step around puddles, and the boy dropped to his knees, hands flung out to break his fall. His father was quick to pull him to his feet, but not before he’d soaked the lower half of his jeans and splattered muck up to his elbows. He was feverish by the time they found a dry maintenance corridor to camp in. 

 

It was a tight fit for six people, but at least it was dry. There wasn’t much in the way of food, but for once, Daisy didn’t mind. Randy’s pained moans were enough to kill any appetite she might have mustered. Needing to keep busy, Daisy moved to the corner Randy’d curled up in. His hands were wrapped around his stomach. Daisy felt a twinge of her own, though whether it was sympathy or portent, she couldn’t say. 

 

She met Joel’s worried gaze, noting the bruised circles beneath his eyes, and offered a wan smile. “You should try to get some sleep,” she said gently. When he started to protest, she laid a hand on his arm. “You’re no good to him like this. I’ll sit with him for a bit while you get some rest.”

 

Joel looked like he wanted to argue - would have, she knew, if he’d been any less than completely exhausted in mind and body. He hesitated a moment more and then nodded wearily. With one last look at his son, Joel moved a few feet away to lie down, head pillowed beneath the filthy jacket of his suit. 

 

Daisy did what she could for Randy. There was no water to cool his heated face, but she used a handkerchief to dab the sweat from his brow and clean the thin trickle of blood from his nose. She smoothed his hair back from where it stuck to his temples and hid her grimace as thick tufts of it came away at her touch. There was little else she could do to offer comfort, and in her heart, she knew he was slipping beyond that. 

 

His skin tone was ashen; the only color in his face from livid bruises. Old and new were indistinguishable. They were all the same angry reds and purples, with no gradual shift in color to indicate any of them were healing. 

  
An hour or so later, he was puking gouts of blood as she and Joel watched helplessly. Fifteen minutes after that, he was gone. 


	2. Chapter 2

_ March 2078 _

 

The world was dead, nothing left but scorched ruin. 

 

There were days Daisy wondered if they were the only ones alive, if ‘alive’ meant whatever this was they were doing. The word used to mean more than heartbeats and breath, but maybe it had been redefined as everything else had been redefined. Now it meant empty eyes and drawn faces, shoulders and backs bowed beneath the weight of another day. It still meant life in the physical sense, but one that was absent of all the little things that made it different from mere existence. 

 

Everything else had changed in that strange way that was simultaneously so subtle it could be difficult to pinpoint and yet so drastic as to render the familiar unrecognizable; why not words, too? 

 

The radiation had dropped enough for them to leave the claustrophobic tunnels of the subway behind. It should have been a high point, a victory of sorts in the fight for survival. Finding supplies was certainly easier. So easy, in fact, that they’d been able to get away from rationing since there was more than enough to go around. Food, water, clothing. They’d even found guns and ammunition for everyone. 

 

James insisted they practice daily, and so they did. It passed the time if nothing else. They had a goal, something to distract, but in the end, that’s all it was: a distraction. A way to work out pent up feelings on hapless cans and bottles. Nothing threatened them because nothing was left. No people, no animals, no plants. 

 

There were shells of lives left behind. Shops and homes, empty cars and broken streets. Shells, because everything that had given those objects meaning was gone. The world was dead, and they were just scavengers picking through its bones. 

 

With such a bleak outlook, it would have been easy to give up. Daisy wouldn’t deny how strong that temptation grew at times, but mostly it just made her mad. 

 

Like a lot of folks, she’d swallowed that crap the government spoonfed its people about the American Dream. She’d wanted a husband, a house, maybe a couple kids and a white picket fence. She’d gotten her husband, and for almost two years, she and Harold had worked on the rest. They’d had the house and the yard. No children - it’d never been the right time for that, but she’d been foolish enough to think and dream about later. 

 

‘Later’ was a war that she’d never wanted and a government telegram informing her that her Harold wouldn’t be coming home. A handful of words, but so powerful that she still felt their reverberation. They hadn’t bothered with details. KIA was apparently all she needed to know, and if they’d ever recovered a body, no one saw fit to tell her. She lost the house a little while later, unable to keep up with the payments on her meager pension. In a few short months, the life they’d built was gone. 

 

Maybe that was what kept her going. Her world had already ended, long before the bombs. She’d survived it once. Having to do so again was rather tedious, but she knew it was within her.  

 

_ Or _ , Daisy mused, a grim smile thinning her lips.  _ Maybe it’s just good old-fashioned spite.  _

 

Hard to say. It all felt the same, and the difference didn’t matter, so long as she kept putting one foot in front of the other. Day by day, minute by minute, when necessary. They why’s of it were just something to occupy her in the quiet moments when she thought the still emptiness of it all might drive her mad. 

 

This was not one of those moments, even if the row of little houses that lined either side of the street - Maple Street, a sign cheerfully proclaimed - brought out her contemplative side. A quick look around showed that the others seemed to be under a similar effect. Even James was silent, his rough features relaxed in something almost wistful. 

 

“It looks like they were hardly affected here,” Joan breathed in wonder. 

 

James gave an absent nod. “The further we get from the hypocenter, the less structural damage there’ll be.”

 

“Might be a place we could stay for a while,” Eric chimed in. “Be nice to have a roof over us again.”

 

And there it was, the reminder of why they were all there. 

 

They’d traded supplies for shelter when they left the relative safety of the tunnels. Most of the buildings that hadn’t been outright reduced to rubble weren’t far off, and the promise of four walls and a roof lost its appeal when it was accompanied by the chance that they might come tumbling down on their heads while they slept. They’d been forced to take their chances when the weather turned, ominous green skies heralding a storm the likes of which none of them had ever seen, but so far, they hadn’t found a place they could really settle. 

 

The tentative hope on the faces around her told Daisy they all believed that might have changed. 

 

“We’ll see,” James shrugged. He frowned then, but there was more to it than his standard animosity for Eric. He stared back out at the street, eyes sweeping over the little neighborhood for several moments before he gave any indication of what was bothering him. 

 

“Where are the survivors?” he asked quietly. “Even with the fallout, there has to be someone left…”

 

“Let’s find out.” Eric didn’t wait for a response before starting down the street, broken glass crunching beneath his shoes. 

 

James aimed a dirty look at the other man’s back, but it only lasted a second or two before he sighed and it was gone, as though holding the expression took more effort than he was willing to give. 

 

“Wait,” the former soldier called. When Eric turned around, James held up his Geiger counter. “We should stay together. There might still be pockets of radiation.”

 

Daisy waited for Joel to catch up before following the others. She matched her pace to his so they could walk side by side and gently laid a hand on his arm. She didn’t ask if he was alright. There’d been enough of that and it was always unnecessary. Anyone that used their damn eyes could see he was as far from that as one could be, but that didn’t stop her from trying in other ways to...what, exactly? Let him know it would be? Not likely. She wasn’t going to waste her time trying to convince him of something she didn’t believe herself. Tell him he wasn’t alone? He was, in all the ways that mattered. A handful of strangers didn’t change that. Not right now, they didn’t, but maybe that much could change, at least. They didn’t have to stay strangers. Of course, much of that depended on him and the others and….

 

Daisy let out a quiet sigh. She was trying, and she wasn’t going to stop trying. No reason to go making it more complicated. Maybe it didn’t matter that she had no idea what the hell she was doing and it really  _ could  _ be as simple as that. Trying.

 

When Joel looked down at her hand and then offered a small, tremulous smile, she thought she might somehow be on the right track. He didn’t speak - he rarely did these days - and the barely-there twitch of his lips hadn’t done anything to soften the deep lines pain had etched around his mouth and at the corners of his eyes, but she saw the effort that simple gesture cost. For a moment, he was trying, too. 

  
  


With such minimal damage, it was easy to pretend the little neighborhood was the same as it had been before the bombs. Until they got closer, and daisy was forced to acknowledge that verdant yards had been replaced by barren dirt, most of the windows were broken, and empty cars had been left abandoned in the street. 

 

The first house they went to was small, one of those cozy starter homes Daisy’s realtor used to gush over. The aluminum siding had come away in some spots and was streaked and discolored in others, but beneath the grime, it had once been painted a cheery yellow.

 

She and Harold had once had a home very much like this one. Daisy brushed her fingers over the cool metal in fond memory, only to snatch her hand back as she realized the black streaks that marred the siding were more than dirt. Not paint, either, despite the drip marks. They looked like the patterns left by rain. The same rain that seeped into the tunnel and stained their clothes and skin. The same rain that poisoned Randy. 

 

Determined not to pick at wounds that were still healing, Daisy followed the others in. As neat as the house looked on the outside, the inside was in complete disarray. Cupboards hung open and drawers had been dumped, their contents scattered over the floor. Clothes were strewn around the bedroom. The bed sheets were stripped from the bed and left in a pile in the center of the mattress. Despite the mess, too much of value had been left behind to be the work of scavengers. The pantry was still stocked with canned food, and the refrigerator was full of rotten produce. Three bottles of Nuka Cola sat on the counter, and the bathroom had a mounted first aid kit that looked like it had never been opened. 

 

Whoever used to live here had left in a hurry, and the place had sat empty since. 

 

_ Probably headed to one of them fancy vaults,  _ Daisy thought bitterly.

 

Too good for the likes of her. She hadn’t been rich enough or skilled enough to get her name on a list, and there hadn’t been enough time to get to a public shelter, though she’d tried. That attempt was what led her to James and the subway. 

 

Turning her attention back to the present, Daisy heard James giving out assignments. Eric was already loading a canvas bag with canned goods while James emptied the first aid kit, stuffing rolls of gauze and bandages into his pockets. 

 

“Check the bedroom,” he told her, not looking up from his task. “See what you can find. Clothes, coats, drugs - anything we can use.”

 

They took what they could carry and made note of what they couldn’t. Once the essentials were replenished, they moved to the next house. No one had mentioned the possibility again, but shelter was still a pressing need and they were all tired of being on the move. It was hard to fight the little flutter of hope that flared to life. Food, water, beds...everything they needed for some semblance of normal was right here and seemingly up for grabs. 

 

Not all of the houses were empty, and while the occupants weren’t in much of a position to object to unwanted visitors, the group left those homes alone. They were easy enough to identify by the smell. It was something that would have to be dealt with if they stayed, but for now, it felt wrong to disturb what were essentially graves. 

 

As they continued down the street, James suddenly stopped. He motioned toward a row of blackened hedges a few feet away and it took Daisy a moment to see the emaciated form curled behind it. Through the gnarled branches, she could just make out the ripped remains of a floral patterned skirt tangled around the thin legs and felt a small swell of pity for the unknown woman. This far from the blast, her death had likely not been an easy one. 

 

“What’s the problem?” Eric asked impatiently. He peered around James’ shoulder and snorted, turning puzzled eyes on the other man. “That’s all? Nothing we haven’t seen before.”

 

“Something’s not right,” James murmured, his hand creeping back towards his rifle. 

 

Eric let out an incredulous laugh as he flung his arms wide. “Look around you, man! Whole world’s gone to shit and you’re getting antsy over one more body?” He kicked a rusted can toward the hedges and shook his head in disgust. “Maybe we need a new--”

 

He broke off and sucked in a breath, dark eyes going wide in stunned horror. James took a quick step back and raised his rifle as what they’d thought was just another corpse clambered to its feet. It let out a low snarling growl and Daisy got a glimpse of glowing yellow eyes before it lunged for Eric, faster than anything that decrepit had a right to. Eric screamed and tried to push the creature off of him, but it slashed at his chest and neck with what could only be described as claws. 

 

James slammed the butt of his gun into the back of its head and sent it toppling to the ground, giving Eric enough time to get away. Before the creature could get back on its feet, he fired. It spasmed once and then lay still, but before anyone could breathe a sigh of relief, Joan shrieked, pointing wildly. Three more of the corpse-creatures came darting from behind the house, charging whoever they could reach first. 

 

One fell on Joel in a flurry of claws and snapping teeth, knocking the man to the ground. The thing was moving around too much for Daisy to take a shot without risking Joel getting hit so she did the only thing she could think of and shoved with all her might. The creature struck its shoulder against the asphalt but it didn’t slow it down for long. It was already rolling over to stand back up as she tried to grab Joel’s arm to pull him to his feet. Suddenly, it shuddered beneath a burst of gunfire and lay still. 

 

Daisy had just enough time to meet James’ eyes with a nod of gratitude before Joel stumbled against her and her attention was directed towards trying to keep the two of them standing. By the time she had him steadied, the fight was winding down. They’d been taken by surprise, but whatever those things were, ambush was their only advantage. Though faster than most humans, they didn’t have strength on their side, and they seemed to rely on pure animal instinct. Large numbers could certainly be a problem, but they were just another part of this new, dead world the group had to adapt to. 

 

In spite of her mental pep talk, Daisy was still shaken by the encounter. They all were, she noticed, looking around at the others. They were pale and trembling. Joan was crying, and Eric, his hand clamped against the bleeding claw marks in his neck, was staring at the corpses in shock. Even James looked like he needed a moment to collect himself. They’d escaped serious injury, but Daisy suspected the psychological wounds would linger long after the scratches and bites had healed. The sounds the creatures had made, their frightening appearance made all the more monstrous because of how human they’d looked, would haunt her dreams for a very long time. 

 

“Are you okay?” Daisy asked Joel, scanning him for any sign of a wound she might have missed. 

 

He nodded, eyes unfocused, his breath still coming in fast, shallow spurts. If he kept going like that, he’d pass out. 

 

“Have you seen my glasses? That...thing knocked them off.”

 

“I’ll take a look,” she promised. “Why don’t you go sit down and catch your breath. If I find them, I’ll bring them to you.”

 

Her heart sank when she spotted the glasses a few minutes later. It looked like they’d been stepped on. The black frames were snapped at the bridge, and one lense was broke out, the other so badly cracked it was useless. She handed the mangled spectacles to Joel with a murmured apology, but the man just lifted a shoulder in a tired shrug as if to say, ‘What does it matter?’ and tucked them away in the breast pocket of his jacket. 

 

They went back to the first house to spend the night. No one wanted to venture further in the fading light; not with the possibility of meeting more of those creatures in the dark. James and Eric pushed the couch in front of the door, and the one window low enough to climb through was blocked with a tall bookshelf. It wasn’t enough to keep anything out that was determined to get in, but at least they’d have ample warning.

 

Daisy fell into the bed she shared with Joan still dressed and without bothering to straighten the sheets. She’d barely had the energy to remove her shoes. Joan made a little more effort to clean up first, but if she cared that Daisy hadn’t done the same, she kept it to herself. The girl was quiet for so long Daisy assumed she’d fallen asleep, but after several minutes, just as she was drifting off, she heard her whisper, “Daisy?”

 

Eyes snapping open, Daisy bit back an irritated sigh. “Yes?”

 

“Do you think anyone’s left? Or is just those... those zombie things?”

 

This time, Daisy did sigh. She was too exhausted for this kind of conversation, but the sooner they got it over with, the sooner she could go to sleep. And she really did like Joan; it was just easy to forget how young she was. Even so, she’d done well at holding it together. Daisy doubted she’d have been half as brave at that age, and if Joan’s seemingly endless optimism grated at times, it was still a nice change from the constant brooding or endless bickering of the others.

 

“Honey, I’m sure there’s people out there somewhere,” Daisy said at last, hoping her tone was as reassuring as she tried to make it. “We survived, right? And I don’t know about you, but I’m pretty sure the only reason I’m still around is a lot of dumb luck.”

 

Joan actually giggled at that. “Me too, I think, though I never really considered myself lucky before.”

 

“Me either,” Daisy agreed. “Which is why there has to be someone else out there besides us.”

 

After another lengthy pause that had Daisy straining her ears to see if the girl had fallen asleep after all, she heard a soft, “I hope so.”

 

“Good. Hold onto that.  You lose it, and it won’t matter what’s left.”

 

It felt slightly hypocritical to say, but it was true enough, if a bit oversimplified. Hope alone wouldn’t save them, and there was always the danger of getting caught up in unrealistic expectations, but giving into despair was a death sentence. Joan would have to figure out some kind of happy medium between the two herself.

 

A small hand groped for hers in the dark and gave a tentative squeeze. “Thanks.”

 

“You’re welcome, honey,” Daisy whispered, squeezing back. “Now get some sleep. You young ones might be able to stay up all night, but I just get cranky and sore.”

 

Joan’s hand never left hers, but gradually, the girl’s grip loosened and her breathing turned slow and even. Daisy tried to fight the growing heaviness of her eyes for just a few more minutes to make sure Joan was well and truly out, but it was a futile battle. She was too tired and the pleasure of sleeping on a real mattress with the warmth of another person beside her was a siren call she could not resist. Soon, Daisy was sleeping as deeply as Joan. 

 

She was jerked awake far too soon by a loud pop that left her ears ringing and her heart racing. 

 

“What was that?” Joan squeaked. Her trembling fingers clasped Daisy’s so tightly she could feel the girl’s nails biting into the back of her hand. 

 

“Sounded like a gunshot.”

 

Alarmed voices rang out from the living room as Daisy tried to extract her hand from the vice grip Joan had it in. The beam of a flashlight bounced down the hall and then a tall silhouette appeared in the doorway. 

 

“Everyone alright?” James called, keeping the light angled toward the floor so he wouldn’t blind them. 

 

“We’re fine,” Daisy said. “What’s going on?”

 

“I don’t know yet, but Joel wasn’t with us when we heard it.”

 

Daisy let out a nasty word, the kind that would have made her mother flush with shame if she’d heard it. She tugged her hand sharply and snapped, “Come on girl, let go of me.” Joan released her and Daisy climbed off the bed. “I’ll help you find him.”

 

Realizing she was about to be left alone, Joan scrambled after them. Daisy almost told her to stay put. She had a nagging feeling that the girl didn’t need to see whatever they were about to find, but kept her suspicions locked behind clenched teeth. Sooner or later, something was going to shatter what remained of that fragile innocence. It might be kind to just get it out of the way now, or next it might be her that went missing in the middle of the night. 

 

Their search didn’t take long. None of the furniture had been disturbed, so he couldn’t have left the house, and it only had so many rooms. They found him in the bathroom, half-sprawled between the toilet and tub. His head and shoulders were resting against the side of the bathtub, his pistol resting near one of his outstretched arms. A thin stream of blood trickled from his temple and dripped into wide, unseeing eyes. 

 

Daisy couldn’t bear to see any more. She turned away, swallowing back a wave of nausea. 

 

“Oh, Christ,” James muttered, running a hand over his stubbled scalp. “I didn’t...fuck. There’s nothing we can do right now. In the morning, we can...We’ll deal with it in the morning.”

 

Though they were far from rested, no one felt like sleeping after that. They gathered in the living room, quiet and tense. Joan sobbed quietly in a corner and picked the loose threads from the ragged edges of a tear in her skirt. Eric kept glancing down the hallway toward the bathroom, his jaw tightening before he’d drop his gaze to the floor. James just paced, the constant, repetitive motion wearing on Daisy’s already frayed nerves. 

 

“I don’t understand,” Eric said suddenly. “He seemed to be doing okay. Why would he... _ why _ ?”

 

“His boy died,” Daisy gently reminded him. “I don’t know if there is such a thing as ‘okay’ after something like that.”

 

She didn’t know from personal experience, of course - and for the first time, she realized she was glad she never would - but she could imagine. There were some things people didn’t come back from.

 

“It shouldn’t have happened,” James said firmly. He stopped and pointed a finger at Eric. “It was  _ your  _ watch. If you’d have been doing your damn job instead of  _ sleeping  _ -”

 

Eric shot to his feet. “Don’t you fucking dare pin this on me! I fell asleep, yeah, but babysitting the old man was never in the job description.”

 

“You’ve done nothing but run your mouth from day one! But when it comes down to it, you’re just a drain on resources.”

 

“I pull my weight around here, same as any of you! Maybe you should lighten the hell up and stop pushing us so hard. You ever think of that? Don’t act like this has nothing to do with you!”

 

Both were flushed and breathing hard, in each others’ faces and foaming like two rabid dogs. Joan had curled in on herself, her knees drawn to her chest and her face buried in her arms, shoulders shaking. As much as she wanted to offer the girl some kind of comfort, her patience was gone, snapped like a thread pulled too tight.

 

“Enough! Both of you!” Daisy got to her feet and looked each man in the eye, though she refused to lift her chin to do so. She’d be damned if she was going to look up at them while they were acting like posturing schoolboys. “Throwing blame around doesn’t change anything. Maybe we could have done more to help, maybe not, but Joel made a choice, and that decision is on  _ him _ .”

 

Turning her back on the men, Daisy crouched next to Joan and ran her fingers through the girl’s thin hair. When she raised her tear-stained face, Daisy threw all of her will into mustering a smile and put a hand on her shoulder. “Why don’t you come and lie down, sweetie?” She didn’t give her a chance to argue, just slid her hand to the girl’s elbow and helped her to her feet. By the time she Joan fell into a restless sleep, the gray light of dawn was streaming in through the windows. Only then, shielded by the dim break between night and day, when there was just enough light to keep her imagination from running wild, but still enough shadow to hide the little details she couldn’t face, did she dare return to the bathroom.

 

Drawing a deep breath, Daisy reached over and closed Joel’s eyes, trying to ignore the cool, waxy texture of his skin. She rummaged through the cabinets until she found a washcloth and set about cleaning as much of the blood from his face and hair as she could. It didn’t really matter what he looked like when he went into the ground, she supposed, but they’d done their best for Randy down in the tunnels, and it wasn’t like they’d been able to bury him. Joel deserved no less. Caring for their dead was one of those things that set people apart from the rest of the animals. Humanity hadn’t fallen that far, bombs be damned. 

 

She checked his pocket for his glasses and frowned when she couldn’t find them. Patting his other pockets also turned up nothing. He didn’t see well without them; even broken as they were, she couldn’t imagine him just throwing them away when he couldn’t just order another pair. Daisy took him by the shoulders and shifted him a bit, trying to see if maybe they’d fallen behind him, but something else caught her eye instead. 

 

It looked like a square of paper, but when she picked it up, grimacing at the blood that flecked its glossy surface, she saw it was a photograph. 

 

His family, by the looks of it, probably from a few years ago. Joel had quite a bit more hair in the photo, and Randy’s wide smile revealed the metal wires of braces. There was a second boy in the picture, younger than Randy, but with the same bright eyes. The same eyes as the pretty redheaded woman seated next to Joel. 

 

A tear slid down Daisy’s cheek. There’d only been Joel and Randy when they all met up. Neither had mentioned a brother or another son, a wife and mother, but she couldn’t blame them for that. Then Randy died, and all Joel had left was that photo. He must have looked at it often. The edges were worn and creased; she could imagine how he must have run his finger along them, over and over, to get the photo in that state. 

 

“Your glasses,” Daisy whispered, feeling her heart break. “Is that why you...you couldn’t see…”

 

Leaning her head back against the bathroom door, Daisy pressed her fist to her mouth to muffle the sound of her sobs. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d cried. Maybe back when the bank changed the locks on her house and she knew she’d failed the memory of her husband. That was long before the world ended, but the pressure had been building for months, and she could no longer hold it back. The dam had broke. All she could do was hold on and hope she wouldn’t be swept away. 

 

Some time later, when Daisy’s sobs had quieted to hiccups and sniffles, she heard a gentle tap at the door, and Joan’s muffled voice from the other side. 

 

“Daisy? Eric and James said they’re ready for him.”

 

Slowly, Daisy got to her feet and opened the door. Her head was throbbing and her eyes were swollen. She knew she must have looked a mess, but Joan took one look at her and wrapped her in a fierce hug. When she pulled away, Daisy saw James and Eric, their clothes and faces streaked with dirt and sweat, standing quietly in the hall. They waited with far more patience than she’d ever seen from either man until Joan took her hand and led her away. 

 

It was Joan that stayed with her while  _ she  _ slept this time, smoothing her hair and holding her hand again, not to draw strength, but to offer it. Daisy wanted to thank her, give the girl some indication of her deep gratitude, but she was asleep as soon as she closed her eyes. When she woke a few hours later, Joel was gone from the bathroom and there was a fresh mound of dirt in the back yard. 

 

Daisy went outside, the photograph clutched in numb fingers. A myriad of emotions tumbled around inside her, shifting so fast at times it was hard to pinpoint exactly what she was feeling at any given moment. Anger that he’d given up, guilt that they hadn’t been enough to keep him from doing so, betrayal because she’d taken his attempt at a smile as a promise that he’d obviously never intended, sorrow, for...everything. All he’d lost, all they’d lost, all the  _ world  _ had lost, and finally, forgiveness. Grudging at times, but there all the same, because trying didn’t necessarily mean succeeding. Failure was just as much a part of it as success.

 

Daisy stared at the damp mound of dirt, wanting to say something, but unable to find the words. She didn’t want to acknowledge a god that allowed such travesty to happen, but she fervently hoped there was something like heaven, for Joel and Randy’s sake, if nothing else. 

 

Joan came up behind her, coughing quietly to let her know she was there. Daisy turned around and the girl held up a broken pair of black rimmed glasses. “I found these, after they took him out,” she explained softly. “I thought,” she ducked her head, red creeping along her cheeks, and gave a helpless shrug. “I just wanted him to have them.”

 

Daisy nodded, unable to speak, and Joan laid the glasses on top of the grave. Daisy added the photo and stepped back, feeling the light pressure of Joan’s fingers against hers. 

 

“I hope you get to see them again, Joel.”


	3. Chapter 3

_August 2078_

 

They ended up staying in the little neighborhood on Maple Street after all. There was no announcement from James, no weighing the pros and cons. They hadn’t even taken a vote; they’d just...stayed. If they left, they always came back. For all intents and purposes, Maple Street was home, or as close as it got to that now.

 

They’d cleared out the rest of the houses on the street. Most had been abandoned, but they found another with those wild creatures inside, huddled together on top of one another like sleeping puppies. There’d been four of them that time, and two of them were much smaller. Smaller, but just as vicious as the big ones, and still dressed in the bright colors and patterns so typical in children’s clothing.

 

The clothes were what really made it sink in; a monster had no use for rocketship prints or Cappy souvenir T-shirts. These had been people, once. Just like that one in the subway was once a person. Daisy would be willing to bet good money that if they’d looked hard enough, they’d have found evidence of that particular house belonging to a family of four before the bombs, perhaps a photo similar to the one that now served as a headstone.

 

They hadn’t looked.

 

The suspicion had always been there; Daisy could admit that now, to herself, at least. It wasn’t something they talked about, but she’d seen the dawning horror in their eyes as it finally clicked for the others.

 

People.

 

Just like them, once, until something had changed them into mindless animals. They still didn’t know exactly what caused it. She suspected they each had their own private theories, but they didn’t share them. They didn’t talk about what might have changed those people because that would mean facing another hard truth: they were changing, too.

 

It was happening slowly, the differences so subtle it was easy to make excuses: malnutrition, lack of sleep, rad exposure - the toll of adjusting to a life none of them were accustomed to; a world they weren’t meant for. And it wasn’t the same for all of them.

 

Eric had changed the most, now nearly unrecognizable from the young man Daisy remembered,  while James looked almost as he had the day she met him. They all saw it. With every day that went by, they looked a little less like themselves, and a little more like those snarling, hissing creatures that mindlessly attacked anything that moved.

 

They didn’t talk about it. It was better that way.

 

The concept of a nine-to-five didn’t exist anymore, but there was plenty of work that needed done. They’d chosen the largest house as theirs, halfway up the street. No one went in the first house anymore. Not since the day Eric and James had carried Joel out. They hadn’t even bothered taking anything with them when they left it. It might become necessary at some point in the future, but for now there was still enough food in the others that they hadn’t needed what they’d left behind.

 

They still made trips into the ruined town for supplies and parts that couldn’t be found in the average Pre-War neighborhood. Electrical components, ammunition, water - always water.

 

Daisy frowned at the irony in that. The neighborhood was situated near a large lake, visible from where she stood, but it might as well be filled with poison. James had tried digging a well, but he hadn’t been happy with the results. The groundwater was still irradiated, and he’d been unable to offer an opinion on how long it would stay that way. Apparently, not even the military had been prepared for a war like the one that had ended the world.

 

He did manage to get a couple generators up and running with parts taken from a nearby hardware store, and Eric showed that he had a knack for terminals. Thanks to the two of them, the house had basic electricity. It wasn’t much more than a few lights, but it was something from before.

 

Much of the animosity between Eric and James had faded, though that was probably because Eric no longer needled him at every turn. He’d become quiet and withdrawn, and Daisy wasn’t the only one to notice.

 

“I’m worried about him,” Joan said as she and Daisy prepared the evening meal. She frowned as she struggled to open a can of vegetables and sighed wistfully, “Oh, what I wouldn’t give for a cheeseburger.”

 

Daisy looked up from where she was stirring a pot of soup and chuckled. “I had you pegged as vegetarian. I thought that was all the rave with you college kids.”

 

Joan shook her head and smiled as she drained the can of veggies and then added them to the pot. “Nope. I was always a burger-and-fries kind of girl. I hate vegetables,” she added wrinkling her nose. “I used to think that would catch up with me eventually, but -” she gave a dismissive shrug, “at least I probably won’t have to worry about getting fat now.”

 

“I guess that’s one way of looking at it.” Daisy cast a critical eye at the fire and added a small piece of wood. The house they’d chosen had come equipped with a gas stove, and there’d been no way of getting around ruptured gas lines. James had promised to get with Eric and figure something out, but for now, they were stuck using a cooking pit outside.

 

As inconvenient as it was, Daisy found she didn’t mind. It gave her a chance to spend time with the girl, and there something comforting about having company while performing such a domestic task. They’d grown close over the last few months, and in moments like this, Daisy found herself wondering if this might be what it would have been like if she’d had a daughter. She always pushed the thought aside when it came, but that didn’t stop it from returning.

 

“Worried about who?” she asked, steering the conversation back to Joan’s initial statement.

 

“Eric.” She pursed her lips, running her finger along the rim of a can of water as she tried to find the words to explain. “He’s just...different, you know? And I don’t mean the…” she broke off and made an awkward motion toward her face.

 

That little gesture might have seemed insensitive, but Daisy knew nothing was further from the truth. It hurt the girl to see the change in Eric, though she’d never given any indication that it was his appearance that bothered her. Unlike Eric himself. Daisy had a feeling it bothered _him_ a great deal.

 

“Got a lot on his mind, I suppose,” Daisy said. She didn’t elaborate, and she didn’t need to. They’d both seen him standing at Joel’s grave. Sometimes he stayed only a few minutes, shuffling from one foot to the other like he wanted nothing more than to flee the sight of it. Others, he stood still as stone, for hours at a time, and she knew where his mind was, it was far from that mound of dirt.

 

“It wasn’t his fault,” Joan whispered. “We were all tired, and no one knew Joel...no one knew that was going to happen.”

 

“You know that, and I know that,” Daisy sighed. “But that’s not what Eric knows.”

 

“James never should have said those things.”

 

“He was upset, same as the rest of us, and wasn’t thinking.”

 

Joan gave her an incredulous look. “You’re defending him?”

 

“No, but show me one person that claims they’ve never said something nasty in the heat of the moment, and I’ll show you a liar.

 

“Blame is easy, honey. People want a reason when something bad happens. They want it to be nice and simple, even when the truth is usually anything but. And nothing’s simpler than pointing a finger. I’m not defending it, but that’s how people work. Always has been, and probably always will be.”

 

“He still didn’t have to be such a jerk…”

 

Daisy arched a brow, the corners of her mouth lifting in a teasing grin as she pointed her spoon at the younger woman. “Case in point.”

 

Joan scowled, huffing an annoyed sigh. The expression didn’t last longer than a few seconds before it slipped into a reluctant smile and Joan conceded with a quiet, “Maybe,” but only a few short months ago, the girl would have been too timid to show her disagreement so openly. A few short months ago, and Daisy would have felt like it was none of her business to say any of that in the first place. They were both making progress, she decided.

 

“I think this is about ready,” Daisy said, laying the spoon aside. “After we eat, I’ll try to talk to Eric. I need to check his bandages, anyway.”

 

Joan nodded, sending her a grateful smile before she went inside to let the others know the food was finished.

 

After they finished their meal, Joan insisted she’d take care of the clean up, and James went outside, as he did every night, to walk up and down the street. Patrol, he called it. Daisy had no idea who he thought might attack them, but it seemed to put him at ease, so she never remarked on it. Maybe he just needed the time to himself.

 

While he was away, Daisy used the opportunity to speak with Eric as she’d promised, and as Joan had likely intended when the girl refused her offer of help. She found him in the bedroom he technically shared with James, even though the other man had slept on the sofa in the living room for almost as long as they’d been here.

 

She knocked softly on the door, more a courtesy to let Eric know she was there, than anything. He didn’t answer or invite her in, but she hadn’t been expecting him to. Daisy was the only one that came to his room - the only one he seemed to tolerate being there - and she’d been through this enough times to know that if he didn’t want her to come in, he’d say so.

 

He turned to look at her from where he perched on the edge of the bed, only the gleam of his eyes visible above the swathe of bandages that covered his face, and she thought she understood why it was only her. He needed help with the bandages; it had been some time since he could stand the sight of his own reflection, and there was no way he’d allow Joan so much as a peek at what lay beneath. Daisy was too old to inspire that particular brand of self-consciousness, and she’d always remained neutral in the bickering between him and James. There really was no one else.

 

“Hi, Sweetie,” Daisy greeted, closing the door behind her. “Is now a good time?” she asked, holding up a roll of gauze to indicate what she meant by the question.

 

“Might as well get it over with,” Eric sighed with a little shrug.

 

His voice had changed along with his features. It was deeper now; raspy, with a hint of a growl chasing his words. Daisy tried not to think too hard on that - or what it reminded her of.

 

Sitting down beside him, she reached up and gingerly began to unwind the bandages. The smell hit her like a physical slap, as it always did once the gauze came away, and she bit down on her tongue to keep her expression neutral. He had enough self-disgust for the both of them; she refused to add to that or give him any reason to think she shared his negative feelings.

 

Daisy ignored the little voice that reminded her of what they’d done in the subway and cheerfully informed her that the damage had already been done. Their horrified reactions had already told him all he needed to know.

 

Easing the last of the gauze away - the strips closest to his skin sometimes stuck - Daisy set the soiled wrapping aside so she could burn it later and gently tilted his face from side to side so she could survey the damage.

 

“It isn’t healing, is it?” Eric asked, his flat tone indicating he already knew the answer.

 

“No.”

 

Honesty was the best option, but it didn’t stop the prick of guilt at having to be the one to say it.

 

They’d tried every ointment they could find, but nothing helped. It started like a bad sunburn with peeling skin, but instead of getting better with time, it had only gotten worse. His skin cracked and bled, not just on his face, but everywhere, progressing into open sores that widened and grew until they were like furrows in his flesh. Scar tissue was forming in thick, shiny patches along his arms and chest, but his face was still raw and seeping.

 

 _Rotting_ , that little voice whispered, and as much as Daisy wanted to argue, she couldn’t think of a better term for what was happening to him.

 

It spread until she doubted there was an inch on his body unaffected by the rot. Only a few tufts of his once thick curls remained. His eyes had darkened to the color of charcoal and were covered by a jaundiced film. Once full lips had scabbed and thinned until his mouth was nothing more than a grim line in his face. And his nose...there wasn’t much of that left at all. If it kept going like this, he’d lose it entirely, and probably soon. Daisy covered his hand with one of hers and saw that even his fingernails, yellowed and brittle, had not been spared.

 

A shudder wracked his thin frame and he hunched his shoulders, pressing his fist to his mouth to stifle a noise that sounded like a wheezing sob.

 

“Hey,” she whispered, giving his fingers a light squeeze. “Come here, sweetie.”

 

Eric resisted her attempts to bring him in at first, and then with another strangled sob, gave up and buried his face in her shoulder, his hands fisting in her shirt. Daisy wrapped her arms around him, one hand cradling the back of his head while the other stroked his back. He was far too thin, she realized. Even through his shirt, she could feel the bumps of his ribs and the knobs of his spine. There wasn’t much she could do about the rest, but she could make sure he didn’t sit in here and starve to death.

 

He pulled away some time later, all cried out.

 

“Sorry,” he rasped, looking away.

 

“Don’t be.”

 

Daisy took a wad of gauze and used it to dab his face as dry as she could and then picked up the rest of the roll. “You ready?”

 

At his nod, she began to wind strips over the worst of his wounds. “You ought to get out of here now and then,” she said as she worked. At Eric’s snort of disbelief, Daisy paused long enough to meet his eyes. “I’m serious. Staying cooped up in here day after day can’t be good for you. James wants to head out tomorrow. Fancies he’s going to build himself a wall around here and says he needs to find some better tools.

 

“Don’t look at me like that,” Daisy sighed. She was in the process of wrapping the bandages around beneath his nose, so he couldn’t reply, but his skeptical frown spoke volumes. “I don’t know what he wants it for, and I don’t care. We all need to keep busy somehow, and who knows? Maybe it’ll come in handy someday. The _point_ ,” she stressed, tucking the ends of gauze into a loose knot beneath his chin. “Is that you should come with us.”

 

Eric was silent for so long she thought he wasn’t going to answer. Finally, she saw his lips part behind the gap she’d left between the strips of gauze near his mouth and felt a flare of hope. If he was going to outright refuse, he’d have done so by now.

 

“I’ll think about it.”

 

“Fair enough,” Daisy smiled.

  


They got up early the next morning in preparation for the walk into town, and Daisy was pleased to see Eric with them. He fidgeted nervously and kept his gaze downcast, but Joan wouldn’t allow him to dwell on his discomfort. Her eyes lit up when she saw him out of his room, and she looped her arm with his, a steady stream of chatter pouring from her lips as they set off. He didn’t say much back, Daisy saw with a small smile, but his posture gradually relaxed.

 

They made it to the hardware store in a couple of hours. Daisy, Eric, and Joan waited by the entrance while James browsed the shelves, every now and then selecting an item that Daisy could only guess the purpose of and dropping it into the large canvas duffel bag he’d brought with him. He met them back at the front when he had everything he wanted, and as they left the store, Joan stopped on the sidewalk, head cocked in thought.

 

“You alright?” Daisy asked, slightly concerned.

 

“Yeah,” Joan assured her. “Just thinking. It’s been awhile since I was in this part of town, but if I remember right, there’s a little grocery store about a mile or so that way,” she said waving a hand toward the south end of the street. “We’ve got plenty of time. Maybe we could see what’s left?”

 

Everyone looked at James, who just shrugged. “We could always use more food. Keep an eye out for water while we’re there.”

 

Joan practically glowed in excitement as she gave a little tug on Eric’s sleeve and started walking. “They used to sell these little chocolates, she told him. A shadow crossed over her face, and her fair brows creased in pain at the memory, but she forced a smile and continued, “I got a box for my fourteenth birthday, and ended up eating so many that I made myself sick.” Her smile turned genuine as glanced up at Eric from beneath her lashes. “If they still have them, we’ll get some. You have to try them.”

 

Daisy couldn’t be sure, but she thought she saw the bandages around Eric’s mouth twitch as he smiled back.

 

Joan’s memory proved less than perfect. She took them a few blocks farther than they needed to go before she got her bearings and remembered the correct street, but the grocery store was still there. They entered cautiously, James in the lead, and no sooner had they passed through the double doors than Daisy heard a familiar snarl.

 

“Get ready!” James barked, lifting his rifle. He tilted his head, eyes searching the empty aisles as he tried to determine where the sound came from when a second, higher pitched growl joined the first.

 

Daisy gripped her pipe pistol, listening hard, but all she could hear was Joan’s frightened breath. Then, a quick pattering from somewhere to her right, the slap of bare feet against linoleum. She turned and saw one of the creatures come around from behind a display of Dandy Boy Apples. It hesitated long enough to sniff the air and then took off, sprinting in their direction.

 

James fired and took out the creature’s knee. It stumbled and fell, but kept coming, dragging its wounded limb behind it. Eric raised his gun, but oddly enough, the creature ignored him, grasping with clawed fingers and snapping its teeth at Joan, who was standing slightly behind him.

 

A single shot rang out, but Daisy had no attention to spare. Two more came streaking from the back of the store It took her three tries, but she managed to bring one down while James took care of its friend. She waited, breathing hard from the rush of adrenaline, but there didn’t appear to be any more.

 

“I think it’s clear,” James said, lowering his gun. “Just be careful.”

 

When no one said anything, Daisy looked over to find Eric staring at the creature he’d killed. She could only guess at his expression, but his back was so rigid his shoulders trembled from the strain. “It’s like it didn’t see me,” he said in a hoarse whisper. When he looked up, his eyes were distant. “Like I wasn’t even there.”

 

“They’re not exactly smart,” Joan tried to soothe. She laid a hand on his arm and flinched when he pulled away, turning his back to her.

 

Daisy glanced from one to the other helplessly, a sick feeling coiling in her gut.

 

 _It doesn’t mean anything_ , she tried to tell herself.

 

Maybe Joan just looked more appetizing; she certainly had more meat on her than Eric. Maybe it didn’t recognize him as prey because of all the bandages. Maybe…

 

 _Maybe it_ did _recognize him._

 

“Let’s just grab what we can and get out of here,” James said. “Worry about the rest later.”

 

He regarded Eric a moment, his expression inscrutable, and then slung his duffel bag over his shoulder and headed down the nearest aisle.

 

“Come on,” Daisy said quietly, ushering Eric and Joan forward. “I don’t know about you two, but I’m getting tired of soup and Cram.”

 

The shelves were well stocked and included some of the rarer foods that had been hard to find before the war. The prices guaranteed that only the wealthiest patrons would be able to afford them, but that wasn’t really an issue anymore. They were free to take what they wanted, but that fact did little to lighten the mood.

 

Remembering her vow to see him fed, Daisy tried to point out items that she thought Eric might like. Joan even found her chocolates and reminded him that he’d agreed to try one, but he barely acknowledged either of the women. The most they got out of him were one-word answers, and it seemed like he only gave those in an effort to get them to leave him alone. With a sigh, Daisy just dumped the food items in a bag. Maybe he’d be in a better mood later.

 

James was already waiting for them up front, his duffel bag so full it would no longer zip. It looked like he’d taken every can of water he could find, but Daisy wasn’t going to complain, especially if he was willing to lug it all back home. They’d gotten about halfway back to Maple Street and were passing the laundromat that marked where they needed to turn when Daisy caught a flicker of movement from the corner of her eye.  

 

Eyes darting to the source, she froze in shock when she found herself looking at a man. He had a grizzled beard, and his clothes were stained and torn. Two more men and a woman stepped out of the laundromat, looking as disheveled and unkempt as the first. All of them were armed, and all of them had their weapons pointed at them.

 

James reached for his rifle with his free hand, but the bearded man shook his head. “Wouldn’t try that, if I were you.”

 

Inhaling deeply through his nose, James slowly let his hand fall to his side. “We’re just passing through.”

 

“I see that.” He offered a hesitant smile, but he didn’t lower his gun. “I’m Lewis. You’ll have to forgive us for being a bit jumpy, yeah? Seems like anything that moves out here wants to take a bite out of us.”

 

“Understandable,” James replied cautiously. “We’ve run into that problem ourselves.”

 

“Where’re you headed?”

 

“North.” A lie, but under the circumstances, it could be excused.

 

One of the other men, short and squat with brown stringy hair, took a few steps forward, staring hard at Eric. “What the hell’s wrong with him?”

 

“Burns,” Daisy said quickly. “We hid in the sewers when the sirens went off. After the bombs fell, a pipe burst and he was burned by hot steam. We all were,” she hastened to add when his gaze moved to the rest of them. “But he got the worst of it.”

 

He held her eyes a few moments more and then nodded. “That’s rough. You ought to be careful. Folks might mistake him for one of those zombies.”

 

Eric flinched beside her and Daisy could have hit the man for his tactless remark. “As you can see, that’s not the case,” she hissed, eyes narrowed in a glare.

 

“Like I said, we’re just passing through,” James repeated. “We’ll be on our way now, if that’s alright with you.”

 

“Yeah, no problem,” Lewis agreed. He licked his lips, eyes darting to the bag James carried. “That’s a hell of a load you got on you.”

 

“There’s a grocery store about two hours back that way,” James said, his tone flat. “Doesn’t look like anyone’s been there. Maybe you should take a look.”

 

“I’m afraid that’s going to be a bit of a problem.” He waved his hand and the woman limped to his side. For the first time, Daisy noticed the blood-crusted rags wrapped around one of her thighs.

 

“See, one of those things took a good chunk out of my daughter and we don’t get around as easy as we used to. You look like decent people and I’m sorry for this, but I’m going to need you to hand over what’s in those bags. You do that, and you can be on your way.”

 

“No.”

 

The gun muzzle came up level with James’ chest and Lewis tightened his jaw. “I urge you to reconsider. We need food and water, and I’m not above killing any of you to get it. Hell, it might even be a mercy for that one,” he added, nodding toward Eric.

 

Daisy’s chest tightened in a mix of anger and fear, and beneath that, disbelief. Their first encounter with other survivors and they were in more danger than they’d ever been. At least the creatures were straightforward in their intentions.

 

She hated the idea of just giving away what they’d earned because some asshole with a gun said so, but she wasn’t going to chance anyone getting hurt.

 

“Fine.” She set her shopping bag of food on the ground in one slow, precise motion and kept her empty hands in view. Eric and Joan followed her example, but James did not. A muscle twitched near his temple as he clenched his teeth, but he didn’t move. “Do. It,” Daisy warned, cold rage flaring in the pit of her stomach at his stubborn refusal to concede when they were clearly outmatched.

 

_Get one of them killed over this and you’re next._

 

The vehemence of her unspoken promise momentarily unsettled her, but she realized that didn’t make it any less true. She’d been foolish to assume a human visage was automatically a friendly face, that the old rules applied and the only threats looked like monsters. There weren’t any laws to protect what was hers in this barren, new world, and Eric and Joan were most definitely _hers_. If she couldn’t protect them, she’d rain down hell on whoever hurt them.

 

James stared at her, fury in his eyes, but he dropped the duffel bag.

 

Lewis and his daughter kept their weapons trained on the group while the others with him snatched up the discarded bags. He scratched the grizzled hair on his chin and added, almost as an afterthought, “The guns, too. Can’t have any of you getting ideas about dropping by for a little payback.”

 

Entertaining thoughts of doing just that, Daisy curled her lips over her teeth in an approximation of a smile. “Of course not.”

 

After his men had taken everything but the clothes they were wearing, Lewis waved his gun toward the road and tipped his head towards James in a little bow. “Thank you. You folks best be on your way, now. It’s getting late.”

 

For a few tense seconds, James didn’t move. His fingers curled into fists at his sides and Daisy really thought he was going to take a swing at Lewis. Instead, he spat at the other man’s feet, spun on his heel, and stalked away. With one last look at Lewis to be sure he wasn’t going to retaliate, Daisy waved Eric and Joan in the direction James had gone and hurried after them.

 

James led them North before circling back around when he was sure they weren’t being followed. He fumed the whole way back, but Daisy ignored him. It wasn’t the first time he’d been in a snit because something hadn’t gone his way. She was angry, too, but relieved they’d made it out with their lives. They could worry about the rest later and James would just have to deal with it.

 

Eric was the one who worried her. Any progress he’d made the night before was lost, undone in part by her advice to get out of the house. He seemed to take the incident at the grocer’s as proof of his fate and Lewis and his right-hand jackass hadn’t helped.

 

Daisy tried talking to Eric about it while they walked, but he ignored her. Joan caught her eye and gave a sad little shake of her head. He wouldn’t hear her, either.

 

Both women hoped for a change once he was back home, but they were disappointed. Eric went straight for the bedroom, and refused to leave, even to eat. Daisy brought food to him and it went untouched. She still came in every night to change his bandages, and while he didn’t resist, he stared right past her like she wasn’t there.

 

It wasn’t really in him to be cruel, and when he was angry, he lacked the ability to keep it to himself for any length of time. This wasn’t some play designed for attention or to get under her skin. It was like he’d simply given up, and that frightened her more than his most volatile arguments with James ever had.

 

About a week and a half after they met Lewis, Daisy tried the door and was stunned to find it locked. She hadn’t been aware the door even _had_ a lock; in all their time here, Eric had never used it. Struggling to keep her rising panic in check, she rapped against the door hard enough to make her knuckles ache.

 

“Eric?”

 

_Oh, god...Not again. Not like Joel..._

 

Daisy’s heart skipped a beat when only silence met her ears.

 

“Eric, open this door!”

 

Something shifted inside the room, and Daisy pressed her ear to the door to listen. A sudden, dull thud made her jump, followed by an odd rustling so soft she had to strain to hear it over the rush of blood pounding in her ears. The sound sent chills down her spine, though she couldn’t collect her thoughts well enough to explain why.

 

“Damn it, Eric! If this is some kind of game…”

 

Daisy slapped a hand against the door and then jumped as someone touched her shoulder. She whirled around to see Joan, the girl’s expression sheepish.

 

“Sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you.”

 

The older woman huffed an impatient sigh. “Unless you’ve got a key to this room, honey, now’s _really_ not a good time.”

 

Pink colored her cheeks as Joan held out her hand to show Daisy a couple bobby pins. “Not a key, but almost as good.”

 

Though a small part of her was curious to hear the story of how Joan had learned _that_ particular skill, her thoughts were consumed by worry for Eric. Stepping aside, Daisy motioned toward the door. “See what you can do.”

 

Joan knelt down and squinted at the lock, her lower lip caught between her teeth in an expression of fierce concentration as she gently maneuvered the pins. Daisy watched in growing impatience as the girl worked, until at last Joan hummed in satisfaction as the lock turned with a click. “Got it.”

 

Joan pushed the door open and both she and Daisy were startled to find Eric right on the other side. He was in a crouch, motionless, his head cast downward as though he were staring at the floor. As he slowly lifted his head to face them, the light caught his eyes, giving them a yellow glow.

 

“No,” Joan whispered in heartbroken denial. “Eric…”

 

She raised a shaking hand toward him, freezing when he reared back, his body going tense as a coiled spring.

 

Daisy couldn’t breathe as she tried to come to terms with what she was seeing. She searched his face trying to find some remnant of the young man she’d known for almost a year. When those awful glowing eyes passed over her without even the slightest flicker of recognition, the awful truth crashed over her: Eric was gone. Whatever was left was just a mindless shell.

 

She sucked in a breath to warn Joan, and whatever spell held him broke. He leapt at the girl and slammed her into the wall behind her, snapping her head back hard enough to crack the faux wood paneling. Her eyes rolled back and fluttered closed as she went limp, only his iron grip on her shoulders preventing her from crumpling to the floor. Before Daisy could move, Eric let out a rumbling growl and sank his teeth into Joan’s throat.

 

Any memory of the person that existed just days before fled in the wake of a seething rage for the monster that had taken his place. With an anguished cry, she threw herself at it, striking blindly at whatever she could reach with her fists. Her cheek burned where it slashed at her face, and the bloody crescent its teeth left on her wrist throbbed, but the pain barely penetrated the thick haze of anger and grief that enveloped her.

 

The world spun dizzily as Daisy was suddenly separated from her target and deposited roughly on the floor. She tried to get to her feet and stumbled, moaning as she fell heavily onto one knee. Gripping the doorframe, she managed to pull herself up. She blinked away the tears blurring her vision in time to see James holding a knife with a long, wicked blade. He shoved the thing that used to be Eric against the wall, and Daisy turned away, swallowing back bile as his blade flashed. It wasn’t Eric anymore, but she still couldn’t watch the destruction of the only part of him that remained.

 

Daisy staggered to Joan and collapsed beside her, pulling the girl into her arms. There was so much blood….

 

_Too much._

 

She knew, but she had to make certain, had to feel for herself that the little flutter that signaled life was gone. Only then did Daisy allow the fresh wave of grief to pull her under.

 


	4. Chapter 4

_ Winter 2079 _

 

She felt his eyes on her back as he followed her inside, a vague prickle that had become as familiar as the constant itch of her skin. He hadn’t been so open about it at first, but gradually, furtive glances had lengthened into searching stares where his eyes roamed over what was left of her face. He was always watching her now, looking for some sign that it wasn’t her looking back at him. There were days she didn’t think he’d wait for all that, so she waited too, half expecting a knife in the back. That kind of uncertainty might have driven her mad, if she cared.

 

Daisy dropped her bundle of blackened twigs and branches next to the pile James had already gathered. There hadn’t been anything green for more than a year, but the twisted remains of trees and shrubs burned hot and saved them the trouble of dismantling furniture. They’d need fire tonight. The sharp scent of snow was heavy in the frigid air, though she wasn’t sure how she was able to detect it. She’d lost anything that even resembled a nose two weeks ago.

 

James shifted as she walked by, a subtle effort to put as much distance as he could between them without actually moving away. Daisy gave him a knowing little grin that only widened when he drew his shoulders into an embarrassed hunch and quickly looked away. She wasn’t offended, and actually found a perverse sort of entertainment in his attempts to hide his caution. After what had happened over the summer, he had a right to be wary, as far as she was concerned, especially considering that the thought of losing her mind and taking a bite out of James really didn’t bother her as much as it ought to.

 

It was petty, but she couldn’t help the small flare of resentment that flared in her chest whenever she looked at him. He was still here, when so many others weren’t, and of them all, James had escaped the end of the world relatively unscathed. He was just as whole and hale as he had been that first day he’d led them all to the tunnels. Not even the radiation sickness that had plagued the rest of them to one degree or another seemed to have affected him. James was a constant reminder of everything she’d lost; from the people she’d loved to the simple comfort of looking in the mirror and seeing her own face. Childish, and not at all becoming for her forty-six years, but as she’d told Joan what seemed an eternity ago: blame was easy.

 

Besides, she didn’t truly wish him harm, even if she was no longer as grateful as she once was that he’d saved her life over and over again. She’d thought about slipping away while he slept to prevent the worst from happening, though she doubted it would be entirely without warning. Eric had enough foresight to lock his door, after all; there’d been enough of him left to realize something was wrong.

 

In the end, she always decided against it, probably for the same reason James never left her. They’d never had much in the way of affection for one another, but even animosity would have been better than being alone.

 

Daisy started piling wood into the fireplace. It had once served as little more than a quaint decoration in a house equipped with central heating, but she was thankful that the house’s previous owner had chosen to spend the extra cash. Heat was no longer a luxury available at the flip of a switch.

 

When she was finished building the fire, James came over to light it, a flip lighter and twisted length of paper in hand. Newsprint, she noted with satisfaction. They’d had their first and only true argument when he’d tried using books as kindling. He’d been right when he said she was never going to read them, but she hadn’t budged from her position. Some things were worth preserving.

 

Once he had the fire going, they heated cans of pork-n-beans and ate in silence. Neither were very fond of the menu for the night, but that was probably why that was all that was left in their dwindling stock of canned goods.

 

James echoed her thoughts when he set his empty can aside and said, “We need to make a supply run soon before the weather gets bad. Might be stuck inside for a while.”

 

Daisy nodded. Last winter hadn’t seen the heavy snowfalls she’d grown up with, but the few inches that did fall glowed an eerie green and kept the group trapped in a Red Rocket station for nearly three weeks. “You think we can carry enough in one trip?”

 

“Don’t know,” James shrugged. “Or we find somewhere else to hole up for the winter. Malden’s up North. We could see what’s left of it.”

 

A frown pinched her mouth as Daisy regarded him. It wasn’t the first time James had suggested leaving the house on Maple Street, saying there was nothing left for them there. He had a point; there was certainly a practical sense to relocating closer to the shops and markets they scavenged to survive, but he was wrong when he claimed they wouldn’t be leaving anything behind.

 

The yard at the end of the street contained three unmarked graves that Daisy wasn’t sure she was ready to abandon. It wasn’t like they required much care, but without her or James, no one would be left to understand the significance of the mounded soil.

 

“Maybe,” was all she said.

 

James held her gaze a moment and then nodded. It wasn’t the answer he wanted, but it was closer to it than any she’d given him so far. “We’ll go tomorrow.”

  
  


They left the next morning and found everything covered in a light dusting of snow - the regular white variety, luckily. It wasn’t enough to hinder travel, but neither knew if more would follow or how soon. They needed to hurry, or it could be a long, hungry winter.

 

It was quiet as they walked, but neither James or Daisy seemed to mind the silence.They’d never really spoken beyond what proved necessary in the past and that hadn’t changed now that they were the only ones left to talk to. James never had been much for idle conversation, and Daisy found she’d lost her taste for it after she buried the girl that had been the closest she’d ever come to having a child of her own.

 

As they navigated the empty streets, Daisy kept her eyes on their surroundings. They hadn’t seen many of those feral creatures since the weather turned cold, but she doubted a change in temperature was enough to get rid of them completely. For all she knew, they slept through the winter, waiting until spring to crawl out of whatever holes they’d found like desiccated squirrels.

 

Other humans were also a threat, though they hadn’t seen any since the group at the laundromat. Lewis and his group had shown them that other people were still out there somewhere, and they weren’t to be trusted. They weren’t going to make the same mistake twice.

 

They agreed to go to Malden, but hadn’t come to a decision on how long they’d stay. It was close, as James had said, but still far enough that they still had a few hours to go when night fell. They might have made it in a day if it were summer, but shorter days meant less light for travel. James pointed out a cluster of houses, but when they got closer, they saw that many had been damaged by fire. Some were reduced to charred rubble, others were missing huge sections of walls and their roofs, still standing, but barely.

 

They made camp for the night, choosing a two-story house that looked sturdy enough to risk sleeping in. It had some damage to the upper level, but aside from some soot stains, and some scorched areas of the ceiling, the downstairs was relatively untouched. They ate more canned beans, cold because they had no fire, and then tried to sleep.

 

The heavy drapes from the living room windows served as blankets, but as drafty as the house was, they weren’t enough. After several hours of shivering, Daisy saw James swallow his revulsion and move closer to her. They spent the rest of the night wrapped in curtains, huddled together for warmth. It was a miserable night.

 

James woke Daisy the next morning by rummaging through the cupboards in the kitchen. He was tossing what cans he could find into a suitcase that was open on the counter when Daisy came in.

 

“There’s some packaged food over in that one,” he said by way of greeting, nodding to a cabinet above the stove. “Insta-Mash, Mac-n-Cheese, that kind of thing.”

 

Daisy brightened as she went to get her pack, looking forward to something besides beans for breakfast.

 

When they were finished in the kitchen, they searched the rest of the downstairs. There wasn’t much they could take with them, but Daisy found a coat hanging on a rack in the foyer that fit her. She had one already, but as cold as it was, another layer couldn’t hurt.

 

The upper level didn’t have much worth salvaging. There were a couple of bedrooms, but they’d been damaged by smoke and soot. Another narrow staircase led to the attic. Before she could question the wisdom of doing so, James headed up the stairs for a look. With a sigh, Daisy followed, stopping at the top of the stairs.

 

The attic had taken the most damage in the fire. As far as Daisy could see, there was nothing up here but the burned remains of boxes and books, but that didn’t stop James from looking through them. He found a small metal case at the bottom of one of the boxes and whooped in triumph when he opened it. Daisy sent him a puzzled frown and he help up a pistol in explanation.

 

“Ammo, too,” he said tilting the case so she could see a handful of bullets. “Not much, but it could come in handy. “I think that’s all that’s up here, though. We should head back down.”

 

He closed the case, and tucked it beneath his arm.  James hadn’t gone more than a few steps towards the stairs before the weakened floorboards splintered beneath his weight. He let out a startled curse and fell to his hands as the lower half of his leg disappeared through the floor.

 

“Don’t!” he warned, as Daisy moved to help him. “We could both fall through.”

 

Daisy nodded, holding her breath as he carefully pulled his leg back up and crawled to the stairs. “Can you stand?” she asked, reaching out to help him up.

 

He hesitated only a moment before he took her hand and allowed her to help him to his feet. Blood was already seeping through his pants. He rolled the leg of his jeans up to examine the wound. A jagged, three-inch gash ran along his shin. It was bleeding heavily, but James didn’t seem concerned. “Probably needs a few stitches, but there’s no major muscle damage. I’ll be fine.”

 

At her skeptical look, he shook his head. “It’s not that bad.”

 

They went back down to the kitchen. James cleaned the wound as best as he could with a bottle of rubbing alcohol Daisy got from the bathroom, and then she helped him bandage it.

They hadn’t come across much in the way of medical supplies, and the few items they carried with them were for basic first aid; they weren’t going to do any good for a wound like that, no matter how minor James insisted it was.

 

“There’s a hospital in Malden, isn’t there?” Daisy asked. “We could go there and see if we can find some sutures or something. Stims would be even better.”

 

James dug out his map and made a few quick calculations before he sighed. “We wouldn’t make it by dark.”

 

“Tomorrow, then.”

 

“Yeah,” James agreed. “Tomorrow. We’re already heading that way, and it’d be good to have some meds on hand, if nothing else.”

 

Neither one of them was looking forward to spending another night in the cold, but this house didn’t have a fireplace, and trying to get a fire going was likely to end up burning the rest of the house down. Daisy left James downstairs as she went up to the bedrooms and gathered every blanket she could find. When she came back James was loading the pistol he’d found. He placed it on the coffee table next to them so it would be within reach and they prepared to sleep.It was still uncomfortably cold, but a definite improvement to the previous night.   

 

Around dawn, Daisy woke to find James tossing in his sleep. He’d thrown off his blankets during the night and they lay in a tangle around his legs, but when Daisy laid a hand on his arm to wake him, his skin was hot instead of chilled. He jerked awake when she touched him, blinking open eyes that were glassy with fever.

 

“You’re burning up,” she said as James struggled to a sitting position. He bit back a groan as his leg caught in the blankets and Daisy gently pulled them back. “As soon as it’s light enough, we need to look at that wound again.”

 

James nodded, a good indication of just how poorly he was feeling. Daisy got up to find her pack, and took out her last can of water. There was only about a third of the can left, but the cartons they’d found in the house were contaminated. Another dose of radiation wasn’t going to hurt her any, but it was the last thing James needed right now.

 

She handed James the water. After he’d drank what he wanted, she peeled the bloodstained bandages back from his leg, murmuring apologies at his sharp gasp of pain. The room was still dim, the early rays of the sun not having made it to the window yet, but she could see his shin and calf were swollen, and the edges of the wound were an inflamed, angry red.

 

“That’s going to need cleaned again.”

 

“I’m fine.” James dismissed her concerns with a shake of his head and tried to get to his feet. As soon as he put weight on his injured leg, he let out a strangled cry and fell back.

Daisy arched what remained of an eyebrow. “It’s infected,” she said bluntly. “It needs cleaned again and rebandaged.”

 

She didn’t wait for him to argue again, just went and fetched the rubbing alcohol and a dishtowel from the kitchen. It wasn’t until she went to check her pack for fresh bandages that she remembered she’d used the last of her gauze when they’d treated his leg the first time. Daisy hesitated a moment before she grabbed’ James’ pack; those were his personal belongings and she didn’t want to invade his privacy, but she knew he kept a few first aid items in the bag. Considering the circumstances, he’d just have to get over it.

 

She sifted through the contents of his backpack, a puzzled frown creasing her face when she pulled out a hypodermic. Where had he found a stimpack? And if he had one, why the hell hadn’t he used it? Setting it on the counter, Daisy kept looking. Stims still needed time to work, and she didn’t know how effective they were once infection set in. He’d still need bandages.

 

Her fingers closed around a smooth glass bottle, and as Daisy read the faded label, she felt her stomach lurch.  _ Rad-X. _ A quick shake of the bottle showed there were only a few of the pills left, and she tried to tell herself that it didn’t mean anything. The bottle could have been almost empty when he found it.

 

_ Or he’s been taking them. _

 

No. No, there had to be some other explanation. But why hadn’t he told anyone? Maybe it was recent. There’d be no reason to tell her because radiation didn’t seem to bother her anymore. It had been that way for Eric, too. Once they changed, the rads stopped making them sick. But James had never been sick. Out of all of them, he hadn’t had so much as an upset stomach.

 

Daisy dumped the bag on the counter, no longer caring about privacy. This was too important. Radiation had killed Randy and she suspected it was what led to Eric changing like he had. If James had known...if he’d had the means to prevent their deaths, and by extension, Joel’s and Joan’s, she  _ had  _ to know.

 

Among various odds and ends that didn’t interest her, there was another stimpack, a few syringes of MedX, and a strange contraptions she’d never seen before. It had two vials connected by tubes to one of those auto-injectable hypodermics. She had no idea what kind of drug it contained, but she set it aside when she saw an IV bag filled with an orange solution.

 

RadAway.

 

Numb with disbelief, Daisy could only stare. She didn’t know where or when James got the drugs, but the fact was, he hadn’t told anyone about them, and they hadn’t been anyplace that would have chems just lying around. It wasn’t the sort of stuff usually stocked in grocery stores, but it was right in line with the kind of items the military might provide to its soldiers.

 

Numbness gave way to rage as Daisy swept the chems back into the backpack and stormed into the living room. She stood in front of James and upended the bag in front of him, watching for his reaction as the assortment of drugs fell to the floor. Something flickered in his eyes briefly and then disappeared, his expression going blank as he lifted his gaze to hers.

 

“You son of a bitch! You’ve had all that the entire time, haven’t you?”

 

“Not all of it, no,” he said calmly.  

 

“The anti-rad drugs?”

 

James hesitated only a second before nodding, and Daisy choked back a sob.

 

“Randy and Eric -” her voice cracked and she ducked her head, swiping a tear roughly from her cheek. “You could have saved them.”

 

“Randy, maybe,” James admitted. “But Eric was too far gone.”

 

Daisy shook her head and snapped, “Not at first. You said there was nothing you could do for Randy! All that bullshit about the good of the group. You just wanted to keep it all for yourself!”

 

“It was for the good of the group!” James took a breath, nostrils flaring in anger, and tilted his head up at her. “Sure, I didn’t want to die or turn into one of those things, but how long would any of you have lasted without me? You think some kid fresh out of school was gonna get you guys to safety? You think he was gonna protect your asses if I was puking my guts out from rads? If I died, you all would have been next.”

 

“They  _ are  _ dead!” Daisy cried. “Randy, Joan, Eric, and Joel. They all died because of you!”

 

“I made a tactical decision,” James argued. “There wasn’t enough to go around. I might have bought the kid a couple weeks at most, and then when the drugs were gone, we’d have all been fucked. The radiation wasn’t going anywhere.”

 

“You  _ still  _ have a dose of RadAway,” Daisy said coldly. “Randy didn’t have to die like he did. You weren’t even sick. You let a kid die to save your ass before it even needed saving!”

 

“Not just mine,” James spat. “You’re still here, aren’t you? Bitch and moan about the others all you like, but the only reason you’re still standing is because of  _ me _ .”

 

Daisy’s eyes were hard as she stared at him. “And you’re going to regret that real soon.”

 

Her expression must have warned James that her words were more than an idle threat because he stretched toward the coffee table, trying to reach the pistol he left there the night before.

 

Stepping down on his injured leg, Daisy smiled when he let out an agonized scream and hunched forward. He fingers curled around her ankle as he tried to push her off of him, but she only added more of her weight as she leaned over and snatched the gun from the table. Taking a step back, Daisy watched as James gasped for breath and clutched at his leg.

 

Daisy cocked the gun and fired at his other leg, hitting him in the upper thigh. He cried out again, but Daisy ignored him as she calmly began gathering the chems and putting them back into the bag. She shouldered the pack and went into the kitchen to grab the suitcase of food.

 

“Should have put you down like I did Eric,” James snarled at her, breathing hard. “I saved your life, you ungrateful bitch! You’re really just gonna leave me here to bleed out?”

 

“Call it a tactical decision,” Daisy said coldly. She opened the door and stepped into the morning sun, James still yelling threats and curses behind her.

 

 

* * *

 

  
  


 

Daisy stared out at lake, its frozen surface as clear and smooth as glass. It was peaceful, in a way, with that odd hush that new fallen snow seemed to bring over the land. The trees at the edge of the lake were blanketed in white, a perfect mirror image of them reflected in the lake. Ice clung to the branches closest to her, glittering like gems in the weak winter light.

 

It looked like a scene lifted from an old Christmas card, until she focused on the large pine that had fallen, its branches reaching up through the ice like skeletal fingers, and remembered that no matter how prettily the snow might dress them, the trees were just twisted dead things now.

 

She gave the pine a look of pity, part of her wondering when she’d started empathizing with a tree. As foolish as the thought was, she and the pine had something in common. Both were relics from another time, trapped in a world they didn’t belong to. The difference was, she was free to move on. But to where?

 

Daisy had only been back to the house on Maple Street a week before she knew she couldn’t stay. There were too many reminders of the past year, too many ghosts. She hadn’t realized until she was alone just how loud they could be.

 

Leaving meant searching for others and most likely beginning the whole painful process of watching them all die over again, but staying meant slowly going crazy with the specters of people she couldn’t save. It meant that Randy, Joel, Eric, Joan - even James, because she would not let herself forget about him, either - would be gone forever. Without her memories of them, it would be like they never existed at all.

 

She briefly entertained the idea of not deciding at all and just letting the cold have her. It would be an easy way to go; like falling asleep she’d always heard, but she knew she wouldn’t, just as she knew she’d already made up her mind and all this musing was pointless. She would move on, and she would live, because to die meant the others would, too, and she couldn’t bear the thought of failing them again.

 

Daisy stood and brushed the snow from her pants as she walked back to the house. When spring came, she would leave, and put her ghosts to rest.

 

 

 

* * *

__

 

 

_ Present time, The Old State House _

 

“Daisy?”

 

The hoarse whisper shook the ghoul from her memories and she looked over to see Hancock peering up at her. His eyes were slitted against the glow of the lanterns Fahrenheit lit around the room, but his gaze was clear. It was the first time Daisy had seen him lucid in hours. She laid a hand against his forehead, relieved to see that his fever had broken.

 

“Glad to see you’re awake,” Daisy said quietly, not wanting to disturb Fahrenheit where she slept on the opposite couch.

 

Daisy had tried to send the girl to bed a couple hours ago, but she’d refused to leave. With nothing else to do but wait, she’d had nothing to keep her busy and had eventually fallen asleep. Daisy had no plans of waking her.

 

“Here.”

 

Daisy held out a cup of water for Hancock and helped him sit up slightly so he could drink it. He saw his bodyguard as he handed the cup back to Daisy and dropped his gaze to his lap, lips pressed into a frown. ”What’d you tell her?”

 

“Can’t exactly tell her something I don’t know, can I?” Daisy gave him a sharp look and added, “She knows as much as she saw. ‘Course, that was plenty.”

 

“I’ll talk to her.”

 

“And what are you going to tell everyone else?”

 

Hancock shrugged, but didn’t say anything.

 

“Didn’t think you’d make it that far, did you?” Daisy asked gently.

 

The shadowed look in his eyes was all the answer she needed, but Hancock sighed as he tried to explain. “It wasn’t like that. Not exactly. I just...wanted to be free,” he confessed. “Didn’t wanna have to look at myself in the mirror anymore.”

 

Daisy frowned at that, understanding a bit too well. She hadn’t chosen to become a ghoul, but there’d been plenty of times when she’d had difficulty reconciling the woman she remembered with the image looking back at her from her reflection. Over two hundred and some odd years, more than just her appearance had changed, and it seemed sometimes like that early version of herself really was another person, and the less pleasant moments of her life had happened to someone else. Other times, like tonight, reminded her that the past was never as distant as it seemed, no matter how many years were between her and her younger self.

 

“The thing about the past, Johnny, is that it’s the past,” Daisy said softly. “It’s already done. You can’t run from it. No matter how far you go, it always has a way of sneaking back in.”

 

Daisy stood to leave, hoping he’d at least think about what she said. As much as she ached to help, this wasn’t something she could fix for him, any more than she could have suddenly made everything okay for Joel or Eric. John had to work through this himself, and as much as she disagreed with his methods, she hoped tonight might be a start. It would take time, but he'd given himself plenty of that.


End file.
